


Maader's Youngest

by Alyss_Penedo



Series: The Half-assed Plunny Junkyard [5]
Category: Magi: Adventure of Sinbad (Anime), Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: (which is very in-character for him I guess), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Ao3 doesn’t believe in my relationship tags and that feels like an accomplishment, Brainwashing, Canonical Child Abuse, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Idk where Judar came from, Masrur cares he's just hideously bad at showing it, Morgiana as Masrur's sibling, Non-Sexual Slavery, Out of Character, POV Alternating, Sinbad’s only role in the second chapter is as either the one laughing or the one being laughed at, Slavery, but uhhh I guess you could call this pre-shipping Judar and Mor?, honestly bby!Mor is kinda hard to write but she's stubborn af so i love her anyways, i got bit by a plunny and it had rabies, more like a giant wordspew, not an actual fic, probably, so here we go I'm back on my bullshit, they're cute together and I'm not sure how that happened, you could probably qualify it as a sister complex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-06-23 20:26:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19708792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alyss_Penedo/pseuds/Alyss_Penedo
Summary: The first time Sinbad takes note of her, it's because she has the same eyes as the boy that defeated him in the Colosseum. She's a tiny slip of a thing, smaller than any other slave he's seen so far, with brightly-colored hair and a brighter gleam in her eyes.The second time he takes note, it's because she nearly breaks his hand for touching Lady Maader without permission.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just finished the slave arc of SnB and YALL HAVE I GOT ME SOME FEELINGS
> 
> (...so expect spoilers for that part, yeah?)
> 
> Note: Morgiana is 14 in canon while Masrur's 20, so she'd be aged up a bit here; about three or four years old to Masrur's 7.

When he returns to his room, Morgiana is waiting for him.

"Masrur," his sister greets. Her ponytail has slipped, hanging lower than she likes over her shoulder; he must have tied it too loose this morning. He sits down on his pallet and beckons her closer, intending to fix it. She throws a towel in his face instead.

"You're all dirty," she complains huffily. He obediently starts rubbing the blood off his hands and arms, then pulls her down next to him. She obligingly tips her head, and he undoes her hairtie to redo it.

She kicks her heels a little on the floor. "You're always coming back bloody now," she informs him. "Why won't you just ask Maader if you can stop?"

Masrur wonders how he can explain this to her. Morgiana is so small, still, and unlike Masrur she doesn't remember anything about their people. Everything she knows about being a Fanalis, she learns from him.

It's hard to teach her about pride when he wants her to stay safe, to stay out of the constant death matches of the Colosseum. The safest place for her right now is as one of Maader's children, happy and deluded.

(He trains her when he can. He pushes and pushes, but never past small bruises.

Morgiana has spirit, and battle in her blood, but she's never beaten him--never even come close. And Masrur, for all that he cares, has no idea how to talk with her about things that really matter.

...He'll tell her when she's stronger.)

"Is Maader done with you today?" He asks instead of answering. He tugs at her arm to get her to stand with him, and begins his stretches. She follows along as best she can.

"Mhmm. She said I did a good job today, and now it's time for good little girls to get some rest." Masrur doesn't point out that she should be in bed, then. As always, when talking about Maader, his sister keeps chattering without further prompting. "Today we went outside to visit the lord that keeps big cats in his house, do you remember, I told you about him last week. One of them came sniffing up at us and I got to punch it in the nose! I hope that guy gets in trouble, but Maader says..."

Masrur lets the words wash over him, listening with one ear as he pulls the kinks out of his muscles. Morgiana hits a particularly indignant note in her storytelling and he feels his lips twitch up in a small smile.

Sometimes, he feels guilty about how glad he is that she's here, because it means she's a slave too. But things feel a lot less lonely like this.

* * *

Morgiana dutifully follows Maader whenever the woman has business outside the private chambers of her home. She's smart; she knows that Maader sends everyone away, someday, no matter how well they serve her. She understands, peripherally, that she's just a tool to the woman.

But she also believes she's _different_ from the children that get sent away—that she'll always be around to protect Maader. Fanalis are so rare and she's a very capable four-year-old.

Maader said Morgiana can stay by her side forever, as long as she's a good girl. Maader _promised._

* * *

When Sinbad first tries to charm his new master, Morgiana nearly breaks his arm for daring to touch Maader when he isn't one of her children yet. Sinbad barely dodges in time, then gets dragged off to the cold water room as punishment.

Things follow that vein. Any touch Maader does not initiate is met with swift and violent retribution from her Fanalis shadow; anyone who gets within six feet of the woman comes under immediate scrutiny.

The one exception is the children who gather about Maader begging for attention. Once Sinbad’s been broken and rebuilt as a child of Maader’s, Morgiana loses all interest in him.

When he starts planning the slave rebellion, he doesn't include Morgiana--can't, doesn’t have the opportunity, not when she spends all her time accompanying Maader while the woman conducts business outside the home. It's worrying. He knows that the girl will be a problem as long as he doesn't have his metal vessels.

Masrur is the one who presents a solution to this.

The boy drags Sinbad aside when he understands the plan that Sinbad is setting up, and extracts a promise. If he does this, turns on Maader, then his sister will not be killed. No matter what.

"I can't talk to her when she's always with Maader, though," Sinbad notes shrewdly. "She's going to fight against us."

"I will deal with her," Masrur insists. The boy's gaze is even, and the set of his mouth stubborn. Sinbad will be able to cajole him into doing _nothing,_ unless he is promised the safety of his sister.

(The only two on the entire island capable of defeating Morgiana are her brother and himself, he knows. And _Masrur_ certainly isn't going to do it.)

Sinbad agrees.

* * *

"Are you siblings by blood?" Sinbad asks him, once.

"...we're both Fanalis," Masrur replies, and it's his answer. "There's enough blood between us to count."

(It's an answer that sounds a lot better than, "I'm not sure.")

* * *

Come the rebellion, Maader and Kil make it away from the armed slaves thanks to Morgiana (who's a bit shaken that she had to hurt the children she grew up with to escape). Sinbad comes swooping out the sky in a showy display of lightning and power, and she squares off while Maader and Kil make a break for it.

Her opponent ignores her entirely, brushing right past her with little more than a pitying look; when she jumps at his back to engage him, he swats her right out of the air with his tail. She doesn't let up, so he eventually just sort of stands on her while he negotiates with (read: threatens) Maader.

(When she keeps kicking up a fuss, he shifts his footing so that one scaled boot is resting on the back of her head, and very gently presses her face into the dirt until she quiets.

She’s never felt so helpless before. It’s an easy sensation to hate.)

After they go back to the Colosseum so Maader can sign over everything, Sinbad hands Morgiana over to her brother. Who basically bear-hugs her into submission, and shushes her when she whines.

When Maader is allowed to leave, alone, she looks longingly back at Morgiana. Kil, pulled away on Sinbad's orders, is ignored--as it should be, because she is infinitely stronger and more useful than Kil.

Masrur death-glares the woman. Sinbad steps pointedly between the two, arms crossed and face cold, blocking line-of-sight. Maader flees.

Morgiana breaks down and starts screaming and crying in earnest.

(Masrur has very little idea what to do here, so he just sort of shuffles around until he's sitting next to her, petting her hair gently until she wears herself out.

It takes a long time.)

* * *

So Morgiana's freed. And boy is she mad about it.

She's listless at first, following along wherever her brother leads her by the hold on her wrist. She doesn't speak, she doesn't eat, she doesn't react to much at all, except when they take her collar off and she fights to keep it. (They compromise, removing the lock and letting her hold on to the metal. She clutches the only thing left of Maader to her like it's a safety blanket.)

This all ends that first night, after the children who are left are given a place to sleep.

The entire company, those that live on-site, are woken up by her shrieks in the street outside. Masrur has intercepted her escape attempt and crushed her to his side, heedless of her screaming rage and wiggling, and drags her to the doorway where the adults come flooding out to check on the source of the disturbance. They all together haul her back in, and her anger collapses into sobbing as she calls for Maader.

Masrur gives Sinbad a look that very clearly begs for help. Sinbad mans up and tries to talk to Morgiana (which he didn't try earlier because just looking at her, at her blind devotion to someone who didn't care about her at all... it's still too early. It hurts.)

But he still has those stupid, pitying eyes every time he looks at her, and she hates him for it.

She hates him for everything.

* * *

They do talk at some point though. Morgiana is a smart child; she knew that Maader didn't _really_ care, and Sinbad's pushing even gets her to admit it.

But it's not enough to stop her trying to go back.

Maader _needed_ her, Morgiana insists. And that was important. That was so important, and now Maader has no one and Morgiana should be by Maader's side, Maader said she could stay with her forever, Maader _promised._

(Maader, Maader, Maader. Sinbad understands, he _does_ , but on some level it still pisses him off.)

Maybe Maader needed her, Sinbad tells the girl, but what about her brother? Masrur actually cares about her. He's been worried about her all this time, and he's been looking out for her. She's so little that if she wanders around alone at night she might get lost, or picked up by slavers and sold off again—and then where would she be? For her brother's sake, at the very least, she should stay safe and try to live happily.

This has an effect, he can see. Good.

He hopes it's enough.

* * *

Morgiana asks Masrur if he wants her to stay.

He says yes, of course. He wants that. It's the only thing he knows for sure he wants.

(Someone asked Masrur what he wants to do, now that he's free. He can't think of anything except to have that smiling Morgiana back again, the one who liked to talk about her day and let him tie up her hair even if it always came out sloppy.

The adult in question tells him he's a good brother. Masrur, feeling useless and incompetent in the face of a sister that resents him, doesn't think he agrees.)

And so Morgiana latches on to the idea of living for her brother.

* * *

Morgiana has lost the certainty that she's lived with all her life. She knew that she was going to grow up to be Maader's bodyguard, but now that's gone, so she needs a new anchor. Masrur, solemnly telling her that he wants her to stay with him, fills that hole for a while.

She follows him everywhere. She snaps at people who touch him, glares whenever Sinbad gets within five feet, and generally tries to do for Masrur what she did for Maader.

It... doesn't really work.

* * *

Masrur catches on within a day, and endures it for a while longer than that, because he thinks that if it's helping her and it's what Morgiana wants to do, then he should let her.

...But also his little sister is literally standing guard outside the bathroom when he uses it, and she never leaves his side because she doesn’t trust anyone in the trading company, and after less than a week he just cannot take any more.

He tells her to please stop; he doesn't need her to be a bodyguard, and he doesn't want her to be a bodyguard. Of course, having such a bad way with words that he gives up speaking at all on a regular basis, Masrur manages to turn 'I want a sister not a servant' into 'please leave me alone for a while, you're being annoying and doing something wrong.'

* * *

So she wanders off, world rocked yet again, because if Masrur doesn't want her help then what should she do? She’s made a mistake somewhere.

...Maybe it's because Masrur isn't really like Maader? He's strong, and she's a lot weaker and younger. Masrur won't rely on her and won't need her or keep her around.

(At some point in her existential crisis, she bumps into Sinbad. Who tries to help because hello, little baby with such a lost expression on her face, but she rebuffs him snappishly.

Seren catches wind of it and helps Morgiana resolve some of her issues with Sinbad. The princess knows a thing or two about hating someone because it’s convenient.)

So if Morgiana wants someone to keep her around, she needs to find someone like Maader. Who's the most like Maader in her immediate vicinity?

Why, Sinbad.

...Just thinking about it is enough to make her face screw up in distaste.

But she thinks it through. Sinbad beat her before, but he lost to Masrur—that's how he became Maader's slave, she knows. So the power levels go Masrur-->Sinbad-->herself, since she's never beaten Masrur either.

(She says this to Sinbad's face at some point, and the innocent assertion that he's clearly, _obviously_ weaker than her seven-year-old big brother stabs him right in the ego. Any onlookers crack up.)

But Masrur trains her, and he tells her she'll be a lot stronger when she gets older, and they're both Fanalis. Sinbad's just a regular person, and he's almost a proper adult besides, so he probably won't get that much stronger than he is now.

Someday, she _can_ protect him. Eventually.

So she switches to bodyguarding Sinbad, kinda. When she first starts, Sinbad keeps asking her if she wants something, but she shakes her head _no_ and just sort of stands around, following him places halfheartedly.

She's weaker than him, right now. Every spare moment she can, she pours into training—with Masrur, with Hinahoho, with Mahad, with anyone at all.

She needs to get stronger as fast as possible. She needs to be useful.

* * *

Sinbad doesn't get it for a while, and lets her hang around while he works. He's busy, and she's not hurting anyone; maybe seeing more of what the company does will help her figure out what she wants to do.

She leaves him alone at night when the company stops receiving visitors, (she figures he's safe enough) and she still holds a bit of a grudge so she often turns away with a huff whenever Sinbad catches her eye. (Which a lot of people find adorable, btw.)

Princess Seren says it's fine, though, and that he should just give Morgiana time. Sinbad's willing to trust her that much.

* * *

Masrur, of course, picks up on this change in his sister's behavior immediately. He frets from a distance for a while before he approaches Sinbad about it. He wants to make sure Morgiana isn't being taken advantage of, wants to know if letting her do as she wishes is really the right thing to do in this situation.

(It isn't, he thinks, since it means she's not moving on. Not really.)

(He's right.)

* * *

So Sinbad, understanding what Morgiana's doing and vaguely disturbed by it, sits the girl down and explains that he's not Maader and doesn't want to be treated like he is.

Morgiana scoffs, because she _knows_ he isn't Maader. He's stronger than her, for one, though since he's weaker than Masrur (cue ego-jab) it won't stay that way for long. She'll be strong, she'll be useful, he'll be able to rely on her to keep him safe.

She _promises._

So won't he let her stay?

Sinbad's silent for a long moment. Then he smiles very gently and tells her, in no uncertain terms, that that is a promise he will never hold her to.

He tells the girl that she's still a child. That she has an entire future ahead of her, and she shouldn't throw that away without thinking things through first. If Morgiana decides she wants to spend her life following and helping him, he will gladly welcome her. But if she decides she'd rather do something else, anything at all, then she should go out and do it.

Sinbad doesn't want her to tie herself down just because she's scared. And he _definitely_ doesn't want her to do it to him.

"But Maader-" she tries to argue. He cuts her off before she can finish her sentence.

"Maader was an adult; she shouldn't have been depending on a child." He briefly pats her on the head. For the first time, she doesn't try to hurt him for it. "Morgiana is brave, and strong, but right now you should be depending on others, not the other way around. So you don't have to do anything you don't want to do, okay?"

* * *

(This is ground-breaking, world-shaking.

Morgiana has never had parents, or the memory of them. She had Maader, who she always knew was using her, and she had Masrur, who trained her insistently and was very bad at showing he cared.

Having choices, real ones, about what she wants to do is something so foreign that she's never considered it seriously.)

* * *

_(etc etc epilogue set in Balbadd)_

Masrur's temper is a slow beast to wake and Jafar is always trying to be contentious of the line between 'acceptable' and 'too far,' but when Morgiana finds out that Sinbad somehow lost all of his metal vessels, he very briefly fears for his life.

Luckily for his bones, she takes it out on the nearest wall instead.

(It is, perhaps, not the kindest introduction Aladdin -and later, Alibaba- could have had to her.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't seen Mor as Masrur's sister done before, for some reason, but I'm pretty sure fics like that exist _somewhere._ I just haven't found them yet.  
> Does anyone have any recs?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we move mostly away from the angst, and trip right into fluff, Rumuru, Kil (I figure if I’m going to have Kil survive, I might as well take some responsibility for his character’s future), and... Judar?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was unintentional. It wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m not sure why it did, or who gave it the right, because its' existence means that this fic is shaping up to be something utterly horrifying, like _an actual story._ *shudders*
> 
> @[Yudja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yudja/pseuds/Yudja), I blame you. For at least half of this chapter, but I'm inclined to pile more on your head just because. This concept was supposed to be a _one-shot_.
> 
> P.S. the Rumuru scene needs a reworking, bc it has undertones I don’t like about who was actually in the wrong in that scenario, but like. I’m lazy. I’ll do it later =.=

When Sinbad heads off to the Dark Continent, Masrur is allowed to go with him. Morgiana is not.

His sister takes this about as well can be expected.

“I’ll take her,” Rumuru offers, after the fifth time Masrur has to sniff her out of a barrel or cabinet and haul her off the ship. The would-be-stowaway glares at him from the cage of the tall woman’s arms, betrayed. “I’ll keep an eye on Morgiana for you while you’re gone, okay? So you won’t have to worry.”

Masrur nods his thanks. They’re all packed, him and Sinbad and the rest, and their ship departs within the hour. It will be months before they’re back in Balbadd.

He’d be lying if he said no part of him would miss it.

He reaches up to pat Morgiana on the hip. “Stay safe,” he tells her. She scowls down at him in reply.

“You’re _leaving me,"_ she accuses—the first words she’s spoken to him all day. She drags her gaze down the docks; to Sinbad, to Serendine, back to him. Quieter, “You’re all leaving.”

“I’ll be back,” he assures her. “I’ll tell you about it then.”

She pouts and turns her face away, not reassured in the least. Masrur sighs, but turns to go.

Someday, he's sure, his sister will understand why he _has_ to do this.

* * *

Sindria Trading Company’s infirmary is a bright and airy place, well-stocked and comfortably large. Considering how often their employees get up to violence -what with two Fanalis and a small party of Imuchakk in regular attendance- it would be the height of folly for it not to be.

It doesn’t feel that way at the moment. In fact, it feels rather suffocating.

Morgiana hasn’t moved from where she’d planted the girl -on the visitor’s chair, facing the cot- except to glare sullenly. Kil, reclining on the medical cot and ribs recently broken (and more recently wrapped), glares back with equal heat.

Rumuru holds her smile in place. ”I still haven’t heard you apologize, Morgiana,” she probes.

She wishes -in a distant, idealized sort of way- that Morgiana were an easier child to care for. It’s not the girl’s fault, of course, not really; she isn’t _trying_ to be difficult, the way Ja’far had been years ago. She listens to Rumuru as a senior member of the company, and as a respected teacher who oversaw the education of both Fanalis siblings. 

Anything further, however, seems to be more than Morgiana will tolerate.

The tiny girl pouts up at her, smaller than any Imuchakk toddler and utterly adorable. Rumuru’s hand twitches with the suppressed urge to pat the child on the head, maybe smooth her hair down a little; no one’s managed to get a comb in Morgiana’s hair since Masrur left with Sinbad, and it’s looking a little ragged.

It isn’t so bad that it’s worth the resulting tantrum, though.

(Rumuru hadn’t even been _there_ , when someone suggested that Morgiana move out of the room she shared with her brother. She’d been in the building, though, and that was plenty close enough to be able to feel the tremors.)

“She’s not going to apologize,” the other problem child hmph’s.

Kil is a bit of an anomaly among the freed children, plodding along as a bitter and solitary presence who has made it abundantly clear that he stays only because the work is familiar and he has nowhere else to go. Sinbad had impressed on the former slaves his belief that both Kil and Morgiana are fellow victims of Maader and neither should be blamed for not joining the rebellion, but their leader’s optimism can only afford such a snappish and bossy boy so much leeway with the other children.

Rumuru sighs. “Of course she’ll apologize,” she soothes.

“It’s not my fault. He snuck up on me,” Morgiana mutters mutinously. "What did you do that for, anyways?"

Kil looks away. "No reason," he replies unconvincingly. Rumuru and Morgiana stare at him in synchronized judgement, and after a long moment, the boy caves. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

Morgiana crosses her arms. "I'm listening." Kil scowls at her, then at Rumuru.

" _Just_ you."

"If there's something bothering you, Kil, I'd like to hear about it." The boy refuses to meet her eyes. Something in Kil, deep and angry, draws back at her words, and Rumuru knows not to push any further. "I'll listen if you ever want to talk, okay?"

Not for the first time, Rumuru wishes that there was something more that she could do for these children. Nothing ever feels like _enough._

"Regardless, Morgiana. Kil is hurt and you didn't mean to hurt him. I think he deserves an apology, don't you?"

"It's _not my fault._ " No, she doesn't, evidently. "He was in my room while I was sleeping."

"That's not an acceptable reason to break people's bones. What if someone needed you for something in the middle of the night, Morgiana? Will you go around hitting and possibly killing other members of the company? That isn't okay." 

The girl looks away. "...Sorry. Didn't mean to hit you that hard," she works out at last, and it even sounds guilty enough to be sincere. Rumuru will take it.

Kil, it seems, will not. "Like I'd believe _that._ I bet you just wanted to hit me. You never had this problem _before,_ " he complains.

" _Kil,_ " Rumuru admonishes. "She apologized and she meant it. You should accept it."

The boy makes to cross his arms, then drops them with a wince. She pours a fresh cup of medicinal tea for him and presses it into his hands. He takes it with neither complaint nor thanks, and nurses it passively in his lap.

Rumuru explains to him (gently, gently) the value in forgiving those who have apologized. It’s a talk she received from her own father, years and years ago—that holding on to that grief harms no one but yourself, and that either getting retribution or letting it go entirely will ultimately serve you better in the long run.

Kil wants to know why Morgiana kicked him before he does anything of the sort.

Morgiana grumbles, quietly, that she knows not to hit children or even harmless adults, normally. She knows who she is and isn't supposed to hit; she'd had a lot of training when she was a bodyguard. It’s just that she’s not _safe_ here, anymore, because all the other strong people are gone.

Rumuru, glad to finally have something she can do to reassure this tiny, tiny girl, cheerfully asserts that Morgiana doesn’t need to worry about that. "I'm pretty strong myself, you know!"

“But you’re a mother,” Morgiana says blankly.

Rumuru pauses a moment.

Kil nods into the silence. “Mothers don’t fight,” he points out, in that same matter-of-fact tone, and _oh._ Both these children truly think that.

What a strange, sad thing to believe.

Rumuru casually plucks the retractable wooden handle bar right off the frame of Kil’s cot -she’ll arrange a replacement later- and snaps it in half between her hands. Then again into fourths. The thing is at least three inches thick, and she smiles softly at them over the pieces. “I think you two will find that many mothers are perfectly willing and able to fight themselves, instead of expecting their children to do it for them.“ She reaches out and pats a tentative, hopeful hand on each of their heads. “Perhaps you two just needed to meet a better one than the one you had, yes?”

(And that's how Rumuru manages to mom her way into adopting even more children.)

* * *

"What did you want to talk about?"

Kil scowls. He knows he must seem awfully begrudging for someone who wanted this conversation in the first place, but he doesn't care—and it's not like Morgiana will either. "...How did you do it."

"...?"

Kil huffs out a breath. They, the two of them, were the ones who spent the most time at Lady Maader's -and thus each other's- side. He might not _like_ her much, but he's quite familiar with that particular silence Morgiana maintains when she's asked a question she doesn't understand.

"The adults like you. _Sinbad_ likes you, even though you actually fought him instead of running away. What did you do?" 

(He's old enough to recognize when he's feeling jealous. That doesn't actually make it any easier to handle.)

"He doesn't." Kil tilts his head, and the girl expands, "Like me. He doesn't. He just likes Masrur." She looks down, pondering. "The other adults just pay attention because I'm the smallest, I guess."

He eyes her for a moment, then snorts at the guileless look on her face. "Wow. You really think that, don't you."

 _Useless._ He shouldn't have bothered with this. Kil shakes his head and turns to leave; he's wasted more than enough time on _Morgiana_ , of all people.

Somewhere, he's sure, there's still actual work waiting to be done.

* * *

One of the first things Sinbad does, after he and his expedition have settled back into Balbadd and Sindria, is ask Morgiana if she can watch over a very important guest for him.

"Am I going to be sent away?" Is her first, slightly baffling question. He takes it in stride.

"No, of course not. Why would you think that?"

"...Are they a _very_ important guest? Am I allowed to hit them?"

"He kind of is, but you can if you think you need to.” He hopes she doesn’t, because the little Magi seems like the sort to hold a grudge, but he’s also not about to imply that she shouldn’t defend herself if it comes to that. There’s a small -but frighteningly real- chance that if he does, she _won’t._ “Morgiana, why would you think you're being sent away?"

The little five-year-old avoids his gaze, before peeking a _look_ up at him through her bangs. It takes Sinbad a moment to place that look—though, in his defense, it's been a few months since someone last tried to avoid talking about Maader in his presence.

...Oh.

"It’s not that kind of guest. You're not being sold to anyone, ever," he swiftly assures her. Sinbad is suddenly, _uncomfortably_ reminded of Fatima. He tries his best not to show it. "That's not why I want you to meet him, Morgiana."

"Then... why me?"

"Well, I don't really trust that brat enough to let him run around unaccompanied,” he harrumphs, playing his irritation up just a tad. It seems to put the girl a little more at ease. “And Serendine has agreed to look after him, but she can't do that all the time; she still has her own company work to attend to. So I’d like you, specifically, to watch him, because if he _does_ try something, I believe that you're one of the people strong enough to handle it." Sinbad smiles charmingly. Morgiana, as usual, refuses to be charmed. "Can I leave this matter in your hands?"

He doesn't mention how she's too young, still, to really be of much use in a trading company—can't let her greet guests alone, shouldn’t travel as far as an expedition would take them, needs someone to double-check her accounting, handwriting still a tad too sloppy to scribe.

Morgiana is useful and an investment, certainly, and important to Masrur besides, but she’s hardly _vital_ to any of Sindria’s operations. Of all his combat-capable employees, the younger Fanalis is one of the easiest to spare by a large margin.

The girl assesses him for a long moment, face unreadable.

(Morgiana has a hard time trusting Sinbad.

Sometimes he’s really nice, and a bit silly, and she can relax around him. But then he’ll do something, or say something, that shows how much he _thinks_ like Maader, and _every time_ it makes a soft part of her flinch away.)

Finally, she nods her assent, and Sinbad has the pleasure of introducing her to his 'important (but not trustworthy) guest,' Judar.

She visibly double-takes when it registers that Judar's a child too. Sinbad nearly laughs at her for it.

* * *

They assign a _baby_ to him.

Judar strolls down the passageways, exploring the space he'll be staying in for the foreseeable future. To his left, a step behind him and his princess, the baby tails them like a quiet, insultingly tiny shadow.

"Oi, brat," he directs over his shoulder, ignoring Serendine's hissed reprimand. "How long are you going to follow us around for?"

The little girl has a stare that bores into the side of his head; Judar ignores it with the ease of someone who's weathered far heavier looks. When she speaks, her voice is soft and dead-sounding. 

"I am to accompany you for as long as you are a guest of Sindria." The brat tilts her head for a moment, thinking. "Or until Sinbad thinks he can trust you at all, I guess."

Wow, _rude._ He turns to face the midget with a frown already in place. "And what's a kid like you supposed to do, huh?"

"You're just a kid too," she points out, showing just how little she knows. Judar huffs.

"Don't compare me to some nobody like you. I'm a Magi, brat! Show some respect!"

"...what's a Magi?"

"What, you don’t even know that much? You’re pretty stupid, aren’t you.”

She scowls at him. “I am not.”

“You are, you totally are!” He jeers. She glares at him, and he snickers in her face.

The girl stomps her foot. Judar stops laughing. “I’m _not_ ,” she insists.

He floats the scantest inch off the ground as he regards the spiderweb of cracks splintering the once-pristine floor, and glances briefly at Serendine. Uh.

“I can learn. So tell me what a Magi is,” the way-too-strong-to-be-normal kid demands.

...He supposes he can let her ignorance go this once. She _is_ still basically a baby, he shouldn't expect her to know anything _important._ (Wisely, he keeps this thought to himself.) “Oh, fine. Magi are the absolute strongest magic users in existence. We raise dungeons and choose kings. We’re the sorcerers who create the world!"

"Oh." She, at least, looks suitably impressed. "So that's why Sinbad's so interested in you."

He harrumphs a little, tired of her presence already. “Hey, you’re a servant here, right? I’m hungry. Go fetch me some peaches.”

Annoyingly, the girl looks away from Judar and at Serendine for permission. Serendine sighs, but nods her approval. The brat nods back and scurries off obediently; good.

* * *

Sinbad’s guest wants something called peaches. Morgiana has no idea what they are.

So she searches nearly half the entire market until she can find him some.

They’re fruits that are pretty popular in the East, the merchant tells her. Morgiana has never heard of them, so she thinks they must be from very far away. She purchases a small bushel with the company stipend and hauls it back.

Judar doesn’t take more than a single bite of one.

They’re terrible, according to Judar. He demands she try one, just to highlight the awfulness of the mushy fruit. She’s never had peaches before, so it’s a new experience; she thinks they taste perfectly fine.

This is, apparently, personally offensive to the Magi. So he grabs Morgiana, grabs Seren, drags them both to the market, and proceeds to loudly and obnoxiously lecture her (and Seren as collateral) on how to choose good peaches, using a couple of different vendors' wares as examples. Morgiana nods along and commits the information to memory, still smarting a bit about being called stupid and determined to prove the older boy wrong.

It’s an interesting afternoon.

(Serendine ends up apologizing for her charge’s rudeness again and again, and the three of them get chased away from more than one store. Especially annoyed are the places where Judar decries their merchandise as terrible, with all his six-year-old certainty and expertise on the subject.

She hopes looking after the boy won’t always be such a headache, or she might be tempted to leave it to Morgiana more often.)

* * *

“Exactly how long do you plan on hanging around?”

Judar is lounging in the air above his assigned bed in the guest quarters, drifting around the room like a cloud. The floating is sort of interesting, but not enough to distract Morgiana from her job.

“Until bedtime. I’m not supposed to let you wander around by yourself, so I have to stay until then.”

Her assignment is unimpressed. “What, so you’ll just do whatever you’re told, like a good little girl?”

 _What kind of question is that?_

Morgiana nods without hesitation. Judar scoffs.

“Boring.”

She blinks at the overt disapproval. “...What’s wrong with being good?” She asks carefully. “Good children get good things.”

(She knows this. She knows this intimately. With Maader, with Sinbad, with Seren and Rumuru and Ja’far and Vittel and-

Maybe not with Masrur, sometimes. But he’s the only exception. And he’s a kid too, so he doesn’t really count.)

Judar eyes her like he’s trying to decide if she’s worth answering. She stares back steadily. Finally, the older boy looks away with a sneer. “Are you an idiot? ‘Good’ kids get _used,_ is what they do. When people tell you to be good, it doesn’t actually mean anything; they just want you to do what they tell you to do.” He kicks his legs a little, leaning back until he’s laying down. “If you want certain things, you just gotta get strong enough to _take_ them, instead of playing nice and waiting for life to hand them to you.”

Morgiana tries to think that through. It doesn’t seem _wrong,_ even though it must be, because being a good child is very important. She’s... she knows...

Maader was the one who taught her to be a good girl, she realizes. And... and maybe Sinbad is a little too much like Maader to really teach her any different.

“Oh.” Some of her upset must be apparent in her voice, because Judar bothers to glance her way. “You’re... right.”

Judar hides his surprise very quickly, looking away with an affected disinterest. “Hmph. Of course I’m right.”

“I...” Morgiana fists her hands in her skirt. “How do I... take good things?”

“What, you’re asking me?” The Magi finally flops down onto the bed, looking her over like he thinks she’s lying somehow.

Morgiana nods hesitantly, then again with more resolution. Yes. She _is_ asking him.

"...Huh." Judar grins at her, small and slow, like maybe she might not be completely boring after all. “Well then, Red, I guess I don’t mind showing you some stuff. Since you asked nicely and all.”

* * *

Things are a bit different between her and her brother these days.

Masrur came back from the Dark Continent with a friend. It means he spends less of his free time with Morgiana, which sometimes leaves her a little at a loss. He’s never had a friend, since he wasn’t really one of Maader's children, and she’s never had a friend, since she was one of Maader’s favorites. So they just had each other. That was how it _worked._

Seren says that maybe she just needs to find a friend of her own. But the only child around who’s even _close_ to her age is Judar, who is... Judar.

She asks Masrur how he made friends, since he has one now. He thinks about Sharkkan, and about the Colosseum creatures, and tells her that they did it by either saving each other’s lives or by fighting each other to the death.

...Neither of those sound doable.

So she asks Rumuru (who reaffirms that _NO,_ she definitely should _not_ be trying to kill Judar, nor trying to put him in life-threatening situations so she can save him from them), who suggests that perhaps a safe, friendly sparring match would be a good start.

Okay then.

* * *

Word gets around Sindria quickly; there’s a small crowd peering out the windows by the time their youngest squares off against the visiting Magi. Ja’far composes a mental list of each and every prying slacker from his position on the roof, and rolls his eyes when Sin spots him back and waves shamelessly.

Serendine signals the match start. Morgiana makes the first move, and with that Judar has lost the momentum of the battle. The boy never gets it back.

His magical attacks are flashy and powerful, Ja’far notes, but his reaction speed is a bit too slow. The beams of light mean nothing if they can’t hit the little Fanalis.

His Borg, too, is strong but limited in use. It's like a stone wall--under a hammer it barely dents, the force spread too thin. Under repeated chiseling, however, it cracks readily enough.

(Good to know. _Very_ good to know.)

The shield weathers three of Morgiana's blows in the same spot before it crumbles enough for the girl to wiggle through. Judar himself goes down in one.

* * *

So Morgiana beats Judar in a spar.

Her opponent takes his defeat less-than-gracefully.

“You don’t have enough practice fighting-“ she starts to advise. Judar cuts her off with a snarl.

“Shut up shut _up!_ If we were fighting for REAL you would already be dead, you freak!”

“Judar!” Seren snaps, and the boy turns his tantrum her way instead.

Morgiana lifts her hands, lowers them uselessly, shuffles around. Her face feels hot. Seren shoots her an apologetic look and waves her off before Judar can remember her presence, and Morgiana takes the chance to quietly make her escape.

* * *

“Am I... weird?” Morgiana finds herself asking Masrur.

Masrur blinks tiredly at her from the doorway, numbers all but visibly dancing behind his eyes, then moves to begin peeling her out of the nest of blankets she’s made on his bed. “No.” A pause. Her brother frowns down at her, finally taking in the situation, and he goes from removing her from his bed to joining her on it. “Why?”

She scoots over at his urging, and reluctantly relinquishes a pillow to his grasping hands. “Because I’m not like the other kids. I’m too... strong. And fast. And not very ladylike.”

“You’re a Fanalis. Supposed to be like that. ‘S normal.” Masrur curls around her on his side, sleepy and catlike. Morgiana nudges her brother in the stomach with a foot.

“But it’s _not_ normal,” she insists, and nudges him again when it looks like he’s about to fall asleep. “Masrur. Mas _rur_.”

He huffs, short and aggravated. “It _is_. Why are you asking?”

“Because... because when I beat Judar today, he called me a freak, and I was thinki-“

Masrur sits up. “He did what.”

“He called... me a...” Too late, Morgiana realizes that maybe she shouldn’t have gone to _Masrur,_ of all people, about this.

In one fluid, dangerous motion, her brother swings himself to his feet. Morgiana’s flying tackle sweeps him right off them. It doesn’t deter him at all; he gets back up like he can't even feel her clinging.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Masrur rumbles, quiet and intent and _very bad._ She grabs her brother by the back of his shirt. The cloth tears slightly under her grip as she digs her feet into the floor.

“You can’t do that! He’s Sinbad’s important guest, you’ll get in trouble-“

“Sinbad will agree with me.” His tone of voice suggests that Sinbad had _better_ agree, or _else._ Morgiana digs her heels in harder.

“And it’s _fine_ , Judar was just being mean, he’s not good at losing and I don’t need you to hit him for me okay?”

They’ve reached the hallway, Masrur barely slowed by her efforts at all, when he finally stops to look at her. “It’s _not_ fine.”

“It is. Because I say so.”

Masrur huffs out a long, slow breath. “...You beat him in a fight?”

Morgiana nods. Her brother eyeballs her for a long moment. He must find whatever he’s looking for, because something in him sort of _settles,_ standing down from murdery-dangerous to regular levels of Masrur-dangerous. “Fine. Make sure you hit him extra hard next time.”

“...?”

“Next time you spar. Hit him extra hard.”

(“Aim for the face!” Sharrkan calls gleefully from where he's openly eavesdropping in the next room over, because he and Judar can only tolerate each other on their good days.

Both siblings ignore him.)

“I don’t think Judar will want to spar with me anymore...” Morgiana mumbles.

Masrur crosses his arms. “Then I’m going to do it.”

“No! You’ll get in trouble.”

Her brother raises an eyebrow and _looks_ at her. She’s pretty sure he stole that look from Ja’far, because it’s a completely _unfair_ one; Morgiana hasn’t done anything so awful as to deserve that sort of look from Masrur.

“...Alright. Next time we spar.”

* * *

Morgiana does not aim for the face. She nails him in the stomach instead.

Judar doesn’t talk to her for three days.

* * *

When Morgiana finally manages to pin him down, she apologizes for upsetting him. And Judar refuses to accept it.

Morgiana tells him he _has_ to, and he asks why the hell he should.

“It’s good for you,” she tries, “to forgive people who have wronged you.”

He looks at her like she's an idiot. "What are you talking about?"

Morgiana thinks hard, but she can’t quite remember the explanation Rumuru gave about why people should accept apologies. So she drags Judar off to talk to the motherly woman instead.

(And that’s how Rumuru adopts yet another child in need of mothering.)

* * *

“So booored!” Judar complains. “Hey, Red, what do you do for fun around here?”

...fun? Morgiana has no idea. Somehow, she doesn’t think training counts.

“What do you think is fun?” She asks instead.

Judar shrugs. “Magic. Games.” His eyes dart to her, then immediately away. “War, I guess.”

“Okay.” Morgiana accepts that response with the easy aplomb of someone who knows very little about any of those subjects. “Then... let’s go do that.”

Judar slowly turns his head to stare at her, blinking incredulously. "Are you- hey!" Morgiana ignores all this and starts dragging the older boy down to the offices by the wrist.

Dinner isn’t far off; all of Sindria’s children get free time after. They’ll have to move fast.

* * *

Two hours later, Judar is sulking. “That _sucked,”_ he whines, flying above the wreckage they’ve left of one of the loading areas. His braid waves behind him like the tail of an agitated animal, and in a fit of pique he darts down to kick at Kikiriku. “Aren’t you Imuchakk supposed to be really strong or something?”

Kikiriku, nursing his headache from when Kil -of all people- got the jump on him with a trip-rope and a pile of empty crates, doesn’t seem to even register the little kicks. Seren does, shooing Judar away from the younger boy. “Don’t take it out on Kiki, Judar. You fought, you lost. Take your defeat honorably.”

“But I’m a Magi,” Judar snaps. “I’m not supposed to _lose_ to nobodies like _them!”_ He jabs an accusing finger at the cheering group on the other end of the courtyard, standing in stark contrast to their own pitifully defeated gathering of children. The boy looks absolutely murderous.

Morgiana hops a bit into the air to snag Judar’s ankle and drag him to the ground. Judar kicks at her petulantly, but floats down anyway. When she can finally address him without craning her neck, she offers, “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not!”

“They had Masrur. We were always going to lose.” Judar scowls darkly at that, muttering things about her brother that Morgiana pretends not to hear. She pats him seriously on the shoulder, and puts on her best leader-Sinbad voice. “We're only human, Judar. Nobody can win all the time; at least we put up a good fight.”

“Shut up. This was stupid.” Judar slaps her hand away and stomps off without another word. Seren sighs at his retreating back, and Morgiana breaks into a little trot to catch up with him.

She sneaks a glance at Judar’s face, staying safely out of snapping range. The boy’s eyes are bright, and even if he’s frowning he seems a lot more cheerful than before. She nods to herself.

Yes. This was a good idea. Judar just needs to learn how to be less of sore loser.

...Maybe she should warn Masrur to watch his back for a while, just in case.

* * *

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Sharrkan hisses. The rather gullible prince has also not made any move to stop them or leave.

“Why not?” Judar replies, with his usual flippancy. Then, “Oi, Red, put it here.”

"Stop calling me that," the third member of their little party huffs. With a small hop, the Fanalis reaches the top of the doorway and grabs it with her left hand. With her right, she takes the nail Judar gives her and presses it into the wall, sinking the metal into the brick with a firm flick of her fingers.

Sharrkan, still nervously fidgeting, tosses a loop of thin rope over the nail and ties the end to the door expertly. “I’m just saying, we might get into a lot of trouble-“

“But don’t you want to see the look on Freckles’ face?” Judar prods. He floats around to inspect their handiwork, before nodding in approval.

Sharrkan waffles in a way that means yes, yes he does want to see that very much. “But Ja’far can be really scary,” he tries. Judar waves his trite argument off, leading their little trio away from the trap and onto a sturdy cabinet by their escape route—namely, the large window on the other side of the room.

“Bah. I can handle him.” The Magi fluffs up exactly like a small bird would. “As long as you run away, you’ll be-“

Ja’far, it should be noted, is not so unobservant as to _miss_ the mischievous voices coming from his office. (He decides on the spot that the paperwork can wait, and that he’ll be hunting down Serendine instead.)

Thus, the first person to enter the room is Masrur, who is looking for Sharrkan. He gets a barrel of sea-water dumped on his head.

There’s a long, drawn-out moment of silence.

Masrur’s face slowly bleeds dry of surprise, and in its wake is an intent, murderous rage. Judar and Sharkkan book it right out the window—one gleefully cackling, the other nigh sobbing in terror. Morgiana stays right where she is, only utterly mortified.

“Sorry,” she offers to her feet, head bowed. Masrur moves right past her in pursuit.

(An hour later, Serendine and Ja'far finally find Judar -wandless- and Sharrkan -missing his staff- both thoroughly upset and stuffed into a trunk together in one of the unused guest rooms.

Morgiana, of course, gets off with nothing more than a vigorous hair-ruffle.)

* * *

First thing in the morning, Ja’far comes into Sinbad’s office to complain about the latest shenanigans the two youngest children have gotten into. This time, it’s stirring up all the local kids into another massive game of Capture the Flag that’s made a mess of the outer courtyard—which explains the level of noise Sinbad had heard last night, even sequestered in his office as he’d been.

On the one hand, both children seem to be a lot happier and more settled like this, and they (mostly Judar, to be honest) could certainly be doing a lot _worse._

On the other, Ja’far is now making this Sinbad’s problem. Joy.

“What did Serendine do about it?” He asks, without much hope.

“Apparently,” Jafar’s voice is dry, “she was enlisted as the referee.”

Sinbad chokes down a snicker. It must show anyway, because Ja’far glares at him. “Fine, fine. I’ll talk to them. Where are the little troublemakers?”

“Last I heard, they were on the west side’s roof.”

So he goes out and tracks them down. This is the conversation he walks into:

“Come on, it’s not like it’s hard! Just say it!” Judar, floating just off the edge of the roof and flailing his arms for emphasis.

“You’re not the boss of me.” Ah, that deadpan is definitely Morgiana.

“No, no, you gotta say it like you MEAN it.”

A sigh. “You’re not the boss of me.”

“You just said it the exact same way twice!” Judar tries to thwack her with his little wand; Morgiana dodges effortlessly. The boy continues, undeterred, “How are you gonna ever grow a spine if you can’t even tell people to-“

“Ahem,” Sinbad cuts in, before the little Magi can corrupt his youngest employee any further. “Kids. What’s this I hear about you two causing a ruckus last night?”

Morgiana looks instantly guilty. So, not too corrupted. “Sorry,” she offers, dipping into an apologetic bow. Judar tries to shove her off the roof for it.

“Don’t apologize to that idiot, idiot! You’re being _boring;_ tell him to stuff it,” the brat demands, not acknowledging Sinbad’s disapproval at all.

Morgiana looks between Judar, to Sinbad, and back to Judar. “He _is_ the boss of me though,” she points out sensibly, and Sinbad bites back an inappropriate laugh. This is made harder by the incredibly put-out look Judar’s sporting.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he interrupts, before Judar can act on the tantrum he sees building in the boy’s face. He grabs both children by the backs of their shirts and hauls them up, as far apart as he can, as if the physical distance will translate into interpersonal distance and give him enough room to get a lecture in between them.

Morgiana hangs in his grip placidly, blinking up at him in consternation. It’s a far cry from their humble beginnings, when he couldn’t even touch the girl without fear of bodily injury; if she weren’t currently causing him trouble, he might call the display of trust heartwarming.

Judar, on the literal other hand, tries to turn his head enough to gnaw at Sinbad’s wrist. The man valiantly resists the urge to chuck the little hellion right off the roof.

"You should put him down now," Morgiana warns, right before Judar does something with his wand that leaves both children dropping to the ground and Sinbad's hands stinging. The little brat immediately darts away and down, cackling his way over the lip of the roof. Morgiana, at least, has the courtesy to bow very briefly at Sinbad in apology before leaping after him.

Sinbad gapes for a moment before promptly giving chase. 

_Letting those two become friends,_ he wryly admits to himself, _may have been a mistake._

* * *

“I won’t tell Rumuru if you won’t,” Morgiana says.

They’re holed up under the docks, beneath an unused port nearly inland that the water level doesn’t quite reach at low tide. Somewhere in the city, her boss is undoubtedly scouring the streets for them, taking his indignation as an excuse to avoid his paperwork. The man’s intuition is uncanny; they’ll have to move hiding places within the hour.

“No point,” Judar scoffs. “Sinbad will tell her anyways.”

“He won’t.” Morgiana smiles, tiny but genuine. “He’d have to admit to everyone that he couldn’t catch us.”

Sometimes, Judar will give her this suspicious little look, like he thinks she’s lying—like he thinks she might not even be real. He side-eyes her like that now, gaze going right through her to the space around her, judging something she can’t see, and at times like this it’s easy to understand that her friend is a Magi.

But it’s even _easier_ to understand how delicate he is, how just one wrong move could break what they have into something sharp and irreparable and lonely.

That's okay; Morgiana is used to being very careful with people. She is determined to never be the one to make that move.

Judar looks and Morgiana waits, and the moment passes. The boy breaks into a grin that wipes that uncharacteristic fragility right off his face.

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sinbad totally catches them by the end of the day, FYI, but he has to slip into Djinn Equip to manage it. So he and his PrideTM definitely lost that one >;D
> 
> Masrur: need to keep Morgiana safe  
> Also Masrur, @ Judar in particular: I respect my sister’s ability to kick in the teeth of men fifteen times her size. You will respect her as well, or you will _learn to_.
> 
> (Judar -who is, in his own egotistical way, ALSO a stubborn, stubborn baby- continues to underestimate Morgiana—and so continues to get his ass smushed into the pavement.)
> 
> ...Soooooo yeah, Morgiana/Judal was _not_ a ship I expected to ever endorse or even THINK about, let alone peddle myself, but it. Uh. It looks like it could eventually happen here? *shrugs* I might add more to this 'verse later, but this is all I've got rn.  
> (I headcanon that Judar talks Mor into trouble really, REALLY easily once he starts pulling out the ‘we’re friends’ card, just sayin XD)

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Questions? I’d love to hear them <3


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